


Date Night

by The_Alias (Artemis_Day)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Pepperony Week, PepperonyWeek20, Spies & Secret Agents, Tony Stark Bingo, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/pseuds/The_Alias
Summary: Seven O'Clock. Tony Stark was home alone.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another late Pepperony Week entry. This one enemies to lovers... of a sort.
> 
> Also written for:
> 
> Tony Stark Bingo (Card 3066) Square T4- Spy Secret Agent, Assassin or Hitman.

Seven o’clock. Tony Stark was home alone. 

A decanter of whiskey waited for him on the coffee table as he placed the last of the dirty silverware in the dishwasher. The carpet was freshly cleaned and the windows washed. He spotted his reflection in the glass: dark haired and dark eyed, his suit impeccable. He was a man of average height and above average looks, if he did say so himself. 

To be fair, so did many of his past lovers, and it wasn’t just because he paid for dinner.

His home was a modern marvel perched on the edge of a steep rock face. The contractors told him it was impossible to build there. Tony was so offended by their flippancy that he did it anyway just to spite them. Now he had a three-story palace complete with home theater, two libraries, a workroom in the basement, and a beautiful Scandinavian style living room where he could sit and drink and waste the night away. 

Flopping on the couch, he went through a mental checklist of his daily tasks. Car repairs done, meetings avoided, bombs defused, international terrorism thwarted, dishes done. That just about covered it. 

Outside, there was a rustling in the bushes. Tony glanced at the locked glass doors but didn’t get up. Probably just a raccoon or a squirrel or something. 

Warming himself before the fire, he thought about putting on some music. He was a rock guy first and foremost, but he could go for smooth jazz right now. Something slow and melodic that would lull him off into blissful unconsciousness where he didn’t have to think or worry about anything.

Like the footsteps on his back porch.

They were definitely human this time. Two feet walking up and down the brick path. Judging from the gait, they were weighed down but nimble. Good in a fight, but more proficient at long-range attacks. They would probably seek a higher vantage point to get a better shot. That or they’d rush in guns blazing and start an all out war.

Five seconds later, the glass door shattered in a hail of bullets.

All out war it is!   


Tony ducked and rolled behind the couch. Under the flap he found his secondary emergency pistol and returned fire. Two rounds punctured the darkness. His opponent grumbled as she prepared her next shot. A female voice for sure, and one he recognized. This night was about to get a lot more interesting.

Peeking over the armrest, he fired another shot. Her next bullet beheaded his miniature statue of David. The one after that took out the Rembrandt. Before she could get to the Mona Lisa in the bathroom, Tony tossed a grenade through the broken glass. His backyard went up in flames and a woman in black tumbled through the open window. There was a rifle strapped to her back which she hadn’t touched yet. Her landing was less graceful than usual, but he imagined that was just the gun. Red hair spilled out from under her helmet. Rather than try to fix it, she pulled the helmet off and let her flowing locks fall in waves down her back. 

He kicked the gun out of her hands. It misfired and hit the ceiling. That hole would never be fixed, but at least it matched the other six. Undeterred, she whipped out a second gun, firing blindly. Tony swerved left and right, avoiding each shot by mere inches. One bullet grazed his sleeve, ripping the seams and making him hiss in pain. That gave her an opening to sweep his legs out from under him. Tony hit the ground on his uninjured side, needing only a second to recover before he took hold of the gun and forced her to spend the remaining bullets on a potted plant.

That still left him at a disadvantage. She had the rifle and a knife on her belt. Maybe two. All he had was a pen in his back pocket and that decanter of whiskey on the table. 

Well, let it never be said that Tony Stark wasn’t resourceful. 

Pushing her aside, he crawled to the coffee table, knocking the glass to the floor. The cap came off and some of the liquid spilled out (ugh those stains…). He snatched it up and threw it, missing her head by a mile. It still had the desired effect. Shrieking in surprise, she threw a punch, which he caught. He twisted her arm around her back, careful not to break it as he checked her belt and found two knives. They were good quality blades, though not as good as his. 

Of course, she wasn’t done yet, and he’d expect no less from someone like her. She drove her heel into his knee as hard as she could. His leg buckled and she threw all her weight against him to break free. Out came the rifle. A warning shot destroyed the marble finish of his fireplace. That thing had cost him over two million dollars to install. Not cool.

Cocking the gun, she aimed at his head, her brown eyes black and flashing with death. The nearest exit was ten feet away and there was no one around for miles. Tony trusted his AI to call the police if things got out of control, but for now, he was alone. Helpless prey before a ruthless hunter. She stepped closer, finger brushing the trigger. This was part of the game, he realized. Drawing out the moment, ramping up the tension, all to squeeze as much fear out of him as possible.

Or to give him time.

The sad truth was, her trigger discipline needed work. That and her reaction time. Competent as she was, she’d never be a world class assassin. Not with him anyway.

She hesitated long enough for him to grab the barrel and turn it away from his face. When she fought back, he shoved the pen into the trigger guard, blocking her hands. She was easy to overpower, and he pushed her across the room into the wall. The gun came free with a lurch of his hands and he threw it aside with an echoing clatter. She tried to reach for it, but he was too strong. Thin wrists under his large hands seemed shockingly breakable. He was tempted to loosen his grip so not to bruise her, but he caught himself at the last second. 

The only thing left to do now was wait. Slowly, she ceased struggling. She tried to knee him again, but he pushed further into her, trapping her legs with his own. Their bodies molded together like clay. Though her muscles were taut, the softness of her skin and swell of her modest curves were undeniable, lighting a fire deep within him. 

It was the same every time she came to him.

As they had countless nights before, the two stared at each other, the rage and hatred burning in her eyes superficial. They barely masked her true feelings. He’d long since stopped hiding his.

“Good evening, Miss Potts,” Tony rasped.

He felt her hot breath on his face as he drew closer. With every inch, her anger melted, her features relaxed, her body warmed. 

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.”

She kissed him first this time. It caught him off guard and he worried for a moment that it was a ploy to launch a sneak attack. Then she shoved him back onto the couch, tearing at his shirt and snapping the buttons.

As the night wore on, their lips would rarely part. They might end up on the floor or in his bed, unless they were too insatiable to move, in which case the couch was just as good. Tomorrow morning, they’d have breakfast and make small talk about work and family until Tony had to ‘get something’ out of the cabinet under the sink and she’d be gone by the time he straightened back up. 

Maybe one day, he’d work up the courage to ask her to stay.

Maybe one day, she’d say yes.

Maybe one day, they wouldn’t have to fight to the death every other night and could just love each other like a normal couple.

He didn’t think ‘one day’ would ever come, but he could always hope.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not sure what's happening here. Draw your own conclusions. lol


End file.
